


Games

by droid_girl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jaime is an asshole, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droid_girl/pseuds/droid_girl
Summary: As he waits his turn at the Tourney of the Hand, Jaime notices the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms...Just a little too much.





	Games

His eyes flicked disinterestedly over the crowd as he waited his next turn in the lists. On the field, a stablehand was busy throwing dirt over a small puddle of blood.

In a few minutes, Jaime thought idly, perhaps it would be _his_ blood they covered. After all, he was not such a fool as to believe himself invincible. Not these days...not since Loras Tyrell had so publicly wrenched victory from his hands during that last tourney.

Such losses mattered little to Jaime. Tourneys were games. Brutal games, yes, but still only games. Cersei on the other hand...Cersei had been certain to remind him constantly of his failure to beat the Highgarden boy.

Had they not travelled to Winterfell, perhaps she might still be giving voice to her constant disdain.

High above everyone, the woman on his mind presided over her kingdom, wearing a mask which betrayed nothing of her thoughts. Jewels glittered at her neck and on her fingers, under the bright rays of the summer sun. The radiance of Cersei's trinkets were blunted only by her exquisite beauty.

Staring up at her, Jaime recalled the way her mask had slipped so very recently, as they coupled frantically in one of the myriad tunnels of the Keep.

"Jaime..." her voice echoed pleadingly in his mind. "Please, oh please..."

Like a good soldier, he had obeyed. Jaime had moved harder and thrust faster, in an effort to give his sister what she wanted, and to fuck his way towards a moment of peace.

In the present, underneath the bulk of his armour, Jaime's destrier shifted. Reaching a plated hand out, the Knight soothed the great beast with a small click of his tongue.

Something scarlet flashed at the corner of his eye. Glancing up, emerald eyes caught sight of another lovely creature...

 _The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms_ , Jaime recognized as his lips tipped into a grimace. The air-headed girl who idolized Joffrey as if he were some Prince from a song.

Even now, she still didn't understand. Even now, she obviously still didn't see the truths which should have become readily apparent. To his mind, Sansa Stark should have begged to return North, the moment judgement had been passed on her wolf back by the rushing waters of the Trident...

Before the judging eyes of the entire court, Sansa Stark clapped enthusiastically as Ser Hugh entered the lists. Opposite the freshly-knighted boy, Ser Gregor's fist tightened around the reigns of his monstrous mount.

Sliding his gaze from the girl, Jaime watched in dread as The Mountain began charging towards the green boy from the Vale, the one Robert should never have knighted. Heart in his throat, no longer quite as removed as he had been only minutes ago, he waited for the inevitable.

Small screams began to ripple through the crowd as Ser Hugh died.

Against his better judgement, Jaime turned towards where the Stark girl was seated, thinking he would find tears and hysterics. Unbidden, he thought of the sobs and wails he had heard, when Bran Stark had been carried back into the castle...

Some of those cries, he knew, had belonged to her.

Except...

Except Lady Sansa sat unmoved and undisturbed, regal as any Queen. There was nothing in her eyes of the girl who had cheered for the contenders only minutes earlier. There was only a young woman who knew she ought to be afraid, but couldn't find it in herself to care.

The knot of dread in Jaime's stomach loosened ever so slightly, and then completely as he noted the way the Stark girl's hands remained loosely folded in her lap, atop the green fabric of her gown.

This woman would be his Queen in _every_ way that counted, he realized very suddenly, feeling strangely dazed.

But Sansa Stark had no idea - none - that he had already let her down. Him - the knight who was meant to guard her with his very life.

Swinging his attention from the daughter of the Hand, Jaime tried to put sparkling blue eyes from his mind.

***

Across the field, from atop his white horse, Loras Tyrell bent down and plucked yet another blossom of victory.

This time, it was a rose as red as blood...a flower he handed like some prize to the Stark girl. Despite the distance, Jaime saw the way the boy's fingertips brushed against the Lady's own.

"Sweet lady," Ser Loras announced loudly, "No victory is half so beautiful as you,"

Green eyes narrowed as Jaime considered the young Knight. Never mind that he doubted the boy's genuine interest in the girl...Sansa Stark was meant for another, and the idiot would do well to remember it.

***

Throwing the tilt had been worth it, Jaime decided as he wiped blood from his forehead from where the ruined helm had cut into his skin. No one had noticed yet, that the helm he had donned that morning had been borrowed from the armoury.

He would have carried out the deed himself, if he didn't think it would cause trouble between Highgarden and Casterly Rock. Even under the flimsy treaty of the Hand's Tourney, Jaime's father would not have been pleased had he decided to openly slaughter Loras Tyrell.

If any of the Clegane brothers lost their patience with Tyrell’s antics however...well...that was another matter.

 _A mare in heat..._ Jaime thought with grim amusement. _Only a fool would think to cheat Sandor...or worse, Gregor._

From the shadows of the Blacksmith’s tent, the Kingslayer watched as the young Knight cantered into the lists on his pale horse. He couldn't help but smirk, though a very small part of him felt a sharp sting of guilt...

From where she sat, Sansa Stark was likely about to witness a scene of brutality such as she had likely never known. If the gods were good, she would once again be as untouched as she had been the day before...

If not, he would simply add this bloody mummer's farce to his already considerable pile of sins.

Tamping back the unsettling feeling that something inside him was changing, Jaime Lannister crossed his arms and waited in baleful anticipation.

**Author's Note:**

> Upon re-reading Game of Thrones, it seems apparent that Sansa actually noticed Jaime quite a bit during the Tourney of the Hand, despite her crush on Loras.
> 
> Decided to write fanfic. What's new, really.


End file.
